


a little gift;

by jungnoir



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Slow Burn, Spider-Man!au, if at all, inspired by spider-man: homecoming, like not super graphic, lots of coffee. too much coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungnoir/pseuds/jungnoir
Summary: for the last couple of months, a certain friendly neighborhood superhero has been leaving you your favorite coffee every morning when you get to school. you don’t know how he knows you (or your favorite coffee order), but you’ve got a funny feeling you’re gonna find out soon.





	a little gift;

**Author's Note:**

> posted originally to my tumblr: jungnoir.

It’s there again.

The first time you’d ever seen the drink stuck to the front of your locker door with an intricately weaved webbed cup holder, you had honestly thought you were hallucinating from being awake so early. You had poked at the web for several odd minutes, completely enthralled in just exactly how it was made before you realized you  _ recognized _ that weird material. You’d seen it strapped around the bodies of criminals hanging from traffic lights and you’d seen it holding together broken car doors for citizens affected by the fact that there were just… people running around, wielding alien weapons these days. It belonged to your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, only… you couldn’t quite understand why it was here, holding your favorite coffee to your locker door as if it was a gift from a friend.

There wasn’t even a note to explain what it was there for; all you had to go off of was that it was seemingly for you, and no one was around to tell you otherwise. You probably should have been more cautious about drinking a strange drink (even if it looked fairly normal after you’d examined it for another set of minutes) from a masked hero you’d never even met personally before, but you were also a high school senior, and you were tired, and there was your favorite coffee waiting for you to consume, waiting to wake you up. I mean, why would Spiderman want to poison you? You couldn’t find too many reasons not to drink it.

And weirdly enough, that was the first, but not the last time.

Every morning, no matter how early or late you arrived, you’d find that same coffee waiting for you, always steaming hot and always ready for consumption. You really wondered how Spiderman himself could sneak into your school every morning in full garb and all and manage to get your coffee without anyone catching him or questioning him in the least. You had heard from the school janitor, from staff, and from teachers from every part of the school that none of them had ever seen Spiderman roaming the halls. You had even asked the security who monitored the school’s security cameras and even they claimed they could never catch whoever it was that was doing this everyday, and it was really starting to drive you insane. Why was Spiderman contributing to your stunted growth, and why the hell couldn’t you ever catch him in the act?

It had gone on for at least a month before the notes started.

Tired and running on autopilot, you reached for your cup and said a small “thanks” out loud to no one in particular, hoping your appreciation would at least reach the culprit in sound waves or… something, when you feel something strange attached to the other side of your paper cup. Confused, you turn the cup in your hand and blink in surprise at the piece of ripped notebook paper taped to your drink.

**_Cheer up! You’ll ace today’s quiz! And don’t forget your notes!_ **

You stare for what feels like forever, mouth growing dry when you realize that holy shit, he’s talking to you! He knows you have a chem quiz, besides that. You whip around quickly, eyes bugging out of your head in an attempt to find if anyone was watching you, but it seemed the usual wave of students were just as preoccupied with themselves as usual. No one was looking at you.

You’re just about to let out a frustrated cry when someone bumps your shoulder and you jump, your coffee slipping from your hand and plummeting toward the floor. It happens so quickly you don’t have a chance to jump out of the way for the incoming hot liquid that would soon splash your exposed ankles, so all you can do is anticipate your impending doom when-

It stops its descent halfway down.

There’s a hand there, cupped underneath your drink and the hand extends to an arm, the arm extending toward… a head, slowly turning upwards toward you.

Your eyes meet, and when you see who it is, you let out a relieved sigh, “Jeno, you scared me.”

The boy grins underneath his blue hood, moving from his crouched position to stand at full height before you, annoyingly a little taller (one of his favorite things to point out, at that), before handing you your coffee which returns the warmth back to your chilled hands, afflicted by New York’s autumn air, “I think you’re just way too out of it in the mornings. You need to be more aware these days, ya know. What with masked vigilantes swinging from rooftops and flying metal men causing mayhem throughout the city.”

You roll your eyes at your best friend, the boy smiling wider when you sharply turn your back to him to open your locker, “I have more important things to worry about, like who the hell keeps leaving me these coffees every morning.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow from behind you, the topic having lost its excitement after you’d grown used to mentioning it everyday. “What do you mean, ‘who’? It’s obviously Spiderman, right?”

“No, Jeno, it can’t be. No one ever sees him.” “Okay, right, but have you ever thought Spiderman is actually a person under that suit of his, perhaps?” “Like a student?” You question, raising your own eyebrow back at him.

Jeno’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, “It’s possible.”

You ponder on the thought for a few moments. It had come across your mind a few times, sure, but you had never really expected anyone at your school to be capable of accomplishing such a feat. Who would have time between the heinous amounts of homework you had to support the lifestyle of Spiderman? Surely no one you came across. “Possibly. But he could also be a thirty-something working through a midlife crisis.”

Jeno scoffs, folding his arms against the locker. “A super agile thirty-something-” “Out of the way!”

Your locker mate to your left comes barreling over in such a hurry that Jeno is forced off of it, but the swarm of students in the hallways forces him to stay in a weird spot. The spot to your right is also occupied but your other locker mate, and so before he has a chance to be run over by a group of bumbling jocks, you quickly take hold of his wrist and yank him into you.

Your quick thinking leaves your back pressing uncomfortably into your open locker and leaves Jeno pressing not as uncomfortably into your front. The boy’s eyes are blown wide as he places both hands on either side of you to keep from falling into you, but he’s not allowed to back away or move anywhere else. He’s stuck, staring you awkwardly in the eyes and looking like he’d honestly rather melt into the ground right now.

You stare just as wide eyed back at him, hands awkwardly fisting his hoodie and trying your best not to move at all. You seem to be doing a good job, and Jeno is just as stone-still, looking almost terrified to move even a fraction of an inch.

After several moments, your frantic locker mate to your left finally leaves in the same amount of hurry they’d had when they arrived, and Jeno slides back into that spot as soon as he’s able, letting our a shakily nervous chuckle, “Ah, what was I talking about?”

Like you’d be in the right mind to remember that with him being so close just seconds ago.

Instead of letting the heat in your cheeks steal your words, you turn back around to collect your books and shut the door of your locker before turning back to him, “Your wrist was awfully cold. Maybe I should ask 'Spiderman’ to bring you a warm coffee too?”

He blinks at you for a few seconds, then lets out a forced laugh that makes you feel even more awkward, “Yeah, if you can catch him… Don’t forget your notes for that quiz, okay?”

He leaves you standing there with narrowed eyes, the statement he made sounding an awful lot like Spiderman’s. Or so it felt like.

* * *

A few days later, there’s another note taped to your coffee.

**_So glad Stark gave me this suit with a built-in heater. It’s cold as balls out here. Don’t forget to wear an extra layer or two, it’s never bad to be cautious!_ **

You snicker quietly, taking a sip of the warm drink and sighing as it warms your veins. You hadn’t heeded his words, and therefore, you were stuck with a flimsy jean jacket that provided you little (if any) protection from the cold. All you could depend on was the promise of Spiderman’s generosity in sparing a few bucks everyday for a coffee for you, of which you had no idea where he come up with. Was he paid like the Avengers? Were the Avengers even paid? He was obviously good enough friends with Tony Stark to be given such a cool suit that came with a built-in heater, so maybe he got like… an allowance? It must’ve been hard to do all he did without any help, it’d be the least he could do. You just hoped he wasn’t coming out of his pocket too much to get you these coffees everyday. You were tempted to leave him a gift in return, actually.

“Either Spiderman is biased towards you or he just forgot to get me my coffee too.” You hear Jeno sigh from behind you, and you spin around to chuckle at him, sipping your coffee just to emphasize how much you didn’t care. He grimaces at you and pretends to raise his foot to kick you in the butt, “Share some?”

“Why? Aunt May getting stingy with your chore money again? Or are you just getting into more trouble and getting what you deserve?” You flutter your lashes at the boy and he scoffs, reaching for your coffee and letting his jaw drop when you pull it back just as quick.

“I have a right to that coffee.” He defends, watching as you laugh.

“What right do you have? It’s not like you bought it.”

“Yes I-” He starts, and your jaw begins to slacken before he catches himself, “-did not! I did not, but I’m your best friend, so I deserve to have some.”

You let out a disbelieving breath, staring at him a little longer before you decide to let his mistake go and hold out the cup toward him indignantly, of which he accepts with a small smile. He places his lips at the opening and takes a sip, the sip gradually getting longer until you lightly hit his arm to get him to stop, “You said ‘some’, Jeno!”

He grins and pulls the cup away from his mouth, lips shut tight and dripping with a little coffee. “Look at you making a mess,” you huff, and instinctively stick your hand out to wipe off his mouth with your jacket sleeve, “you’re getting coffee on the floor.”

You don’t register how solid Jeno is standing until you’re satisfied that he’s not dripping coffee on the floor, his smile gone as he takes a gulp of what’s in his mouth. You feel an embarrassing amount like Aunt May in that moment.

“Uh,” you start, very aware of how you’d just practically babied your best friend, “that was… uh, that was really-” “Thank you, (Y/N). You’re always looking out for me.” He interrupts. The smile that graces his face makes your embarrassment die down just a little, just enough to allow you to smile back.

The bell rings just at the right moment, and you hike your backpack higher onto your shoulder as you give him a nod of your head, taking a quick sip of your coffee and ignoring the want to snap at Jeno for drinking so much of it. “See you later?” 

You don’t get a chance to escape before Jeno is grabbing your arm and shrugging off his hoodie to hand it to you, “Keep warm.” And then he’s off before you can thank him. 

Uselessly, you watch as he bounds down the hallway faster than you’d ever seen him, his soft hoodie bunched in your hands and leaving behind his scent that you loved so much. Piling on the fact that he’d been wearing it until recently, it was toasty to the touch and before you knew it you were slipping it on over your own jacket to drown in its warmth. You zip it up halfway and sigh, the sleeves of said jacket so long that they fall past your hands and practically engulf your fingers surrounding your coffee. It was normal for best friends to be a little more than normally attached to an item of clothes the other wore, right?

All the while, Jeno tries really hard not to think of your indirect kiss while he forces himself to stay awake in Algebra II.

* * *

You’ve since grown accustomed to Spiderman’s personal presence in your life only existing in the time right before school started and nothing more. The little doses of his bias toward you felt nice, and even nicer when people commented on it. You’d simply explain you didn’t know why they came, that their guess was as good as yours, and then you’d smile around your cup and head to class. It was kind of nice to imagine who the masked vigilante was, how he knew you, how he knew where you liked to get coffee and what way you liked it. At first, it had kind of freaked you out (this perfectly normal response didn’t last long), but it seemed he had no ill intentions, and honestly? It felt pretty cool to be a part of a superhero’s everyday routine.

With the influx of schoolwork that came with school being fully in session, you also didn’t have much time to devote to your inquiries anyway. You took your coffees with appreciation and kept every note he left you for motivation on your harder days, but you didn’t delve much into the mystery of Spiderman’s and your relationship past that. 

Your imagination often left you thinking on Jeno’s speculations of Spiderman being a student, let alone one at your school, and you found yourself wondering exactly who he’d be if that was true. You much preferred knowing Spiderman was someone you knew and who went to your school compared to him being some old stranger creepily devoting time to bringing you your favorite coffee order. Most people you came in contact with knew it, which didn’t help you to narrow down your options. 

There were even times when you thought the caffeine was getting to you, and you’d note Jeno’s random absences and nights when he’d claim he was too busy to stay up on the phone with you as reasonable suspicion. The time you could actually dedicate to unmasking the masked hero was spent on focusing on things like that. Truthfully, knowing Jeno your whole life would have given anyone else the evidence they needed to debunk your suspicion. Jeno was never the athletic type, and while he was smart, he had never excelled in the art of running or even walking very fast for too long. 

But you noticed the subtle changes. 

He’d been having an exceptionally easier time in gym class, had been growing a little meat on his bones and you could feel it every time he hugged you. Now, then, came your wondrous debate of “is that too crazy?” or not.

Today had started like usual: you got a coffee and a small scone on the side that wasn’t your favorite but the little note he left made up for it.

**_Thought you might be sick of just coffee, so I thought I’d switch it up. Do you eat scones? I’ve no idea. I honestly forget they exist sometimes. Anyway, the lady at the coffee shop said it’s great so here you go._ **

You nibble on the scone and find it’s really not so bad, and then you’re on your way for the day.

It’s only when you’re on your way home that your day takes a turn for the unexpected.

A gang of guys are closing in on a woman in an alleyway, her purse held out before her like a weapon, but she has no way of protecting herself against all four guys. You can already tell it’s going to be a losing fight for her, and your stomach flips as you try to gauge what you could do. Cause a scene? One of them could easily snatch her purse and stab her before anyone could do something to help. Find the police? By then, too much could have happened. Go in yourself? Well… nothing was stopping you, was there?

You take a deep breath, blame your bravery on your sleep-deprived mind, and dart in with a resounding “Hey!”

The woman startles at your voice as soon as the men do, and you motion for her to run while they’re focused on you, but she looks far too scared to leave you behind because in the end, she’s a grown woman and you’re a high schooler. Yet, really, you could run a lot faster in your Vans than she could in her four inch heels, and who would survive in this situation with those facts?

“Wow, you guys must be pretty incompetent if it takes four of you to intimidate one person. I’m kinda embarrassed for you, really.” Even when you try your damnedest to sound mocking, your voice shakes. But they look angry and distracted by you, so maybe, just maybe…

“Get outta here before you regret it, brat.” One of them threatens, and you notice his weapon of choice is a metal bat that looks stained with… ah, yes. Blood. Of course you had to confront the fucking metal bat wielding gang of assholes in an alleyway, didn’t you?

Well, you were already here, you might as well keep going.

“Like your mom regrets giving birth to trash that hangs around alleyways and harasses women? Yeah, I probably won’t regret it as much as she does you.” Your eyes flit around the small area, desperately looking for something to protect yourself with, and you see a broken bottle a few feet away. If you could make it over there in time, you could do some damage with that bottle. At least before someone else came along to help.

The one with the bat growls and raises his weapon, taking a step forward and holding it above his head as if to strike you, and that’s when you take your chance to dart for the bottle.

You fall to your knees on the hard gravel and cry out in pain, but your hand flies out to grab for the bottle anyway, turning over onto your back to defend yourself before one of the men could get to you first. Only, there’s no one there.

You stare in disbelief, the alleyway now void of the men and only you and the woman are still there, but when you look at her, her eyes are focused upwards, her legs shaking as she holds herself up against the brick wall. You were sure if it wasn’t there, she’d fall over in shock. And when you look up, you honestly don’t blame her.

Hanging above both of your heads from the railing of the fire escape is all four men tied up in web, dangling and making small whimpering noises that have you staring in awe, bottle falling to the ground and shattering altogether. You recognize the web instantly, and when you finally tear your eyes away from them, you find the possessor of your thoughts for the last few months with his hands on either shoulder of the terrified woman across the alley, your ears picking up his small questions of “are you okay?” and “can you stand on your own?”.

You aim to stand up quickly, pushing your hands down to push you up, but you hiss in pain when your right palm presses into the broken green glass of the bottle you’d just dropped, and you pull your hand back to wince at the pieces of jagged emerald standing out against your bleeding palm. 

“Are you alright?” The woman asks over Spiderman’s shoulder, finding the strength to wobble over to you and crouch down before you, pulling her purse off her shoulder when she sees your hand. Spiderman moves in behind her and stands, his empty white eye slits sewn into the costume stare back at you, not making a noise at all as the woman pulls something out of her purse. 

You don’t tear your eyes away from where you expect his to be until you feel pain in your hand and find the woman has a pair of tweezers and your hand in her hold, her hands taking careful steps to extract the glass out of your palm. “T-Thank you… they didn’t hurt you, right?” You ask.

She shakes her head and smiles at both you and Spiderman, “If it hadn’t been for you two, I would have been toast. You guys make a great duo.”

“Duo?” Your voice is echoed by Spiderman’s it seems, the both of you looking at each other before looking back to her again, her smile easy as she laughs.

“Well, of course, you guys work together right? You come in and distract them and then he swoops in and strings up the bad guys. Your timing was perfect.” The woman feels confident that’s exactly what was going on as she continues to pick glass out, much calmer now that the threat is hanging above your heads.

You feel your heart beat a little quicker when Spiderman begins to speak again, “I guess it was.” 

You’re disappointed to find his voice sounds altered, nothing like the snippets of what you’d heard on youtube videos caught of him doing his everyday thing. It’s distorted by some kind of voice cloaking device that you could only expect was another part of his suit Tony Stark had made. 

“Can we walk you where you need to go?” You ask her, and she nods after a moment, glancing back up at the men above you, telling you she doesn’t see the harm.

“We’ll have to pick up medicine and bandaids for your hand though.” she says as she helps you up, and you find yourself subconsciously noticing he’s a little taller than you. Similar to Jeno, it seemed.

You’re about to protest that she didn’t have to go so far, raising your hand to wipe it on the fabric of your dirtied jeans when a gloved hand encloses around said wrist and commands it to stay where it is mid-air. You look away from your bloodied palm to the culprit; Spiderman’s eye slits narrow amazingly, as if they were his real eyes, “I’ll get them for her on our way back. We should get you where you need to go first, at least.”

Even though you were just about to brush off your injury as to not inconvenience the kind woman, you feel offended that Spiderman would go from leaving you encouraging notes and coffees every morning to brushing off your injury (even as minor as it was) like that. Yet… it really isn’t like you could say anything without sounding phony.

So, with a tight smile, you nod toward the lady and motion for her to start walking, you following at her side and Spiderman following not far behind.

* * *

You’d never seen New York City from this high up before.

Once you both had gotten the woman home safely, Spiderman had made a beeline for the nearest CVS (yes, in his getup and all) and purchased some topical ointment and bandages right away. He’d even let you throw in a pack of fruity gum despite his mutters behind his mask and pulled out a wallet from seemingly nowhere, paying for you before catapulting you both toward the nearest rooftop. “It’s safer to do it here than down there,” he’d told you, arm still wound around your waist and his warmth radiating off of him through your own clothes, “and you can say Spiderman gave you the best view of NYC.”

By the time you two had settled down on the cement and he’d gotten to work cleaning your hand, the New York sun was setting and casting a red radiance along the window panels of the skyscrapers across from you, the warmth of the sun keeping you from feeling  _ too _ chilly. 

Spiderman was kneeled before you, working diligently to clear away the crimson stains your blood left behind on your palms, but unfortunately he was as quiet as a mouse. Even with the bustling city below, the silence was loud as ever.

Part of you wanted to whip out your phone with your good hand and dial Jeno’s number to tell him all that had happened, and the other part of you just wanted to be totally sure this wasn’t a complete hallucination of yours from months of wondering just who this person was. Whether Jeno believed you or not, you didn’t think you’d care as much if you knew for yourself.

You move barely an inch and he flinches, alcohol wipe stilled over your open palm as he looks you over to see what you’re up to. “What year were you born?” You ask, bending your knee and resting your other arm across it with your chin sat atop it, gazing at his face. 

He looks at you for a while and then sighs, “…2000.” 

Son of a bitch, Jeno was  _ right _ .

“So… so you’re a high schooler?” You ask, and his head moves minutely in a nod, going back to the task of cleaning your wounds. “What school do you attend?”

“A  _ high _ school.” He says, sarcasm unabashed, and for a second he reminds you so much of Jeno that you reach your foot around to kick him in the side on instinct. However, barely a few inches from making contact with his hip, he quickly twists one of his working hands toward your ankle and makes a sign with them,  _ the _ sign, and you gasp when your leg comes falling back down onto the ground, trapped in web. 

You sputter in disbelief, catching the distorted sounds of his laugh through the voice changer in his suit and wiggle your restrained leg indignantly, “Wh- how dare you? I’m your senior, you know.” “Psh, yeah, by like… one year.”

You blink and look up at him just as he does you. “So… you go to Midtown too. That’s how… the coffees-” “Is it weird? Cause… cause I can stop. I know I never really gave you a means of contacting me back and it’s probably freaky how I know your favorite coffee but-” “No!”

Your outburst makes him flinch again, and you desperately try to come up with the coolest reason you could have for being so impulsive, but you sadly find yourself coming up short. Really, could you just say “hey, getting an encouraging note and a coffee from you every day at that hell school actually makes me much more happy than I’d be originally”?

To be honest, you couldn’t think of anything better to explain.

“…Look, I won’t lie, I was a little put off by the fact that you knew me and my favorite drink and all, but it’s also really nice? And that probably sounds crazy, right? I mean, you’d think I’d take a little more precaution when it comes to something like this, but I just had a really strong feeling that for whatever reason you’d chosen to buy coffees for me everyday which, by the way, I hope the price isn’t putting a dent in your bank account, it was a nice reason. And, yeah, it makes me feel really good when I see it. It’s a nice constant in my life and it’s pretty cool knowing the friendly neighborhood Spiderman is looking out for you, personally.”

Your confession leaves you feeling awfully vulnerable, and you’re all too suddenly aware that you’re alone with Spiderman on a rooftop in the middle of the city and you really have no idea who he is. You don’t even know if you can trust him when he says who he is, can’t trust that he doesn’t have a weird serial killer past time where he singles out high school girls by buying them their favorite caffeinated beverages for a few months before brutally murdering them on New York rooftops, but you just had to trust your instincts on this one, didn’t you?

Something in your gut told you not to be afraid, and hey, that was enough to satiate your moral internal debate for now.

“Well… good.” He says after a few moments of quiet, and though he sounds undoubtedly awkward even with the voice changer, you can sense his relief. “…How’d you like the scone?”

“The-” you blink, the change in topic catching you off guard, “uh. It was… it was alright… are you taking requests?”

He shrugs, the movement familiar, but you brush it off.

“I love coffee, I do, but I also really love hot cocoa. Just in case you ever feel like switching it up.” You offer with a smile, and although you can’t see it, you have a feeling he begins to smile too.

Carefully, he applies the medicine and bandages your hand tight and clean, and you thank him for the help, the sun having since set. The sky was now painted in black with flecks of stars here and there, the last dark blue rays the sun provided disappearing over the horizon. The lights of the city are on and cast the city in a range of yellows, oranges, and reds, and when he helps rip his web off your leg, you move toward the edge cautiously to see the world of New York City thriving beneath you instead of beside you like you’re used to.

Spiderman is less cautious, back turned to the side and knee bent to rest his elbow on, his face turned toward the city casually. The two of you stay like that, you sat on your knees and letting the cool winds blow your hair this way and that. It feels lovely and calm, something you hadn’t really expected to feel from all the way up in the sky, and you could imagine the hero to your left found great pleasure in just sitting on random rooftops and enjoying the night time. Well, when he wasn’t saving the city, that was.

“Nice jacket.” He compliments out of the blue, and you look down quickly to remember that you were wearing Jeno’s blue hoodie, the thing too big for you and draping at the tops of your thighs but keeping you warm no matter what. 

You smile fondly at the thought of Jeno, and you pull it tighter to your skin, inhaling your best friend’s scent with content. “Thanks. It belongs to a really good friend of mine. Also, I have a question… where did you find out what kind of coffee I like?”

He doesn’t look at you, keeping his head turned toward the city, but you can hear something like a chuckle pass through his mouth when you ask, “Let’s just say I heard it from a really good friend of yours.”

* * *

The next morning, you expect to find a coffee there waiting for you, maybe even a scone to accompany it. You were so accustomed to catching breakfast from the webbed superhero that you don’t even bother grabbing anything from home to sustain you throughout the day, so you can say you’re thoroughly jostled when you arrive to school and find nothing on your locker door.

Just like the first time you’d received a coffee from Spiderman, you find yourself staring dumbfounded at the lack of said drink, and even your locker mates decide to ask you about the absence of it, but you can’t fathom a reason why it wouldn’t be there. You’d told him last night, straight to his face, that you liked it! Had you said something else wrong?

You also are annoyed to find that Jeno hadn’t answered any of your frantic calls or texts last night after the superhero had dropped you off at home, so you were forced to painfully lay around in bed for hours, thinking of what could have been and knowing what you did not have with no one to share your thoughts with. If anyone was to know of the shenanigans going on, it was always going to be Lee Jeno.

You start growing worried when he doesn’t greet you by the locker that morning (even when you wait an extra five minutes for him, even when the bell rings and you  _ swear _ he would soon swing around the corner on his skateboard and greet you good morning in his usual way), and it’s only halfway through the school day when you receive a call from none other than Aunt May.

“May? Where’s Jeno? Is he alright? Please tell me he’s alright.” You spit out as soon as you accept her call, having sneaked your way out of class with a bathroom pass just to take the call. You didn’t have long, and you could only hide in the stall for so long before your nosy hall monitor started growing curious.

You hear hushed chuckles on the other line that don’t sound like they belong to her, and your eyebrows furrow before Aunt May’s voice reaches you, “He’s fine, (Y/N). Not dead, at least.”

“At least?” You murmur.

“Ah,” she hesitates, “yeah. Apparently on his way home from a mathletes meeting, he got caught in the crossfire of a pretty bad fight. Apparently it involves some enhanced mutant guys or whatever. The Avengers are working on it, at least what’s left of them, but Jeno got beat up pretty badly. He won’t be at school today or tomorrow.”

Your heart aches knowing Jeno is hurt, and you’re speaking before you think, “I’m coming over later with his favorite soup. Do you need me to pick up something for him? Anything else?” 

“(Y/N)…”

“God, that doofus. Of all the people in New York City, he’s the one that crosses the path of a group of enhanced. If he had just been more careful-”

“(Y/N).”

“-how hurt is he, May? I called and texted him all night and he didn’t return or read any of my messages. Did he go to the hospital? Did he break anything? Is he unconscious?”

“(Y/N)-”

“I swear I’m gonna go crazy over this kid-” “(Y/N)!” Aunt May’s voice booms over yours and you shrink back into the stall door, coming back to your senses with an apologetic tone in your voice, “…sorry, Aunt May. What were you saying?”

“He doesn’t want you to come see him.”

That was… more than a little strange. “W-why not? I’ve seen him naked in middle school and even that time when he got stung by a bee near the eye and his whole face swelled up like a balloon. What could he possibly be embarrassed about?”

“He…” Aunt May starts, and suspiciously, you hear the sound of hushed whispers on the other line, one of the voices sounding nothing like hers, “He’d just rather you not see him right now. He’s pretty hurt and he’s completely knocked off sleeping pills so he wouldn’t even be able to stay awake long enough to acknowledge you. It’s best if you stay at home tonight anyway. I’m worried about those enhanced, they aren’t under control yet.”

Everything in you feels wrong, and you desperately wish you could convince Aunt May otherwise, but you’d tried such things in the past and found that the woman was a stone wall when it came to those she loved. If she believed it was too dangerous to do something, by all means, she made it known. And she did  _ not _ compromise. Even if you did have the most convincing puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen.

So, reluctantly, you fight down the need to argue with her to accept you, and instead mumble back, “Can you tell him I’m worried? And that… when he gets back to school, I’m gonna beat him up for getting hurt?”

Aunt May laughs, obliges, and tells you to get back to class before hanging up and leaving you deflated in the bathroom, your eyes focused on the scribbled nonsense your classmates left littered on the stall’s walls. All you can think of however, is just how okay your best friend really is, and all you can do is pray that Spiderman ditched you today to focus on catching the bastards that had hurt Jeno in the first place. You’d rather that than a scone and a coffee anyway.

* * *

You found yourself confined to the walls of your bedroom that evening, your parents having forced you to stay away from Jeno’s place until 1). Aunt May gave you the okay and 2). It was confirmed the rogue enhanced were in custody. You couldn’t bare to watch the news about them over your taco dinner, so you reluctantly called it a night and slipped to your bedroom to stare over your phone screen, wishing it to light up with the notification for Jeno’s name. A good chunk of you simply wished for him to send you a quick text to ease your worries and let you know he was still fully functional, but as it grew later and later, you assumed that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

You forced yourself to focus on homework instead, which proved to be an irritatingly greater feat than usual with the concern for Jeno looming over your head. You couldn’t recall a time either of you had been terribly physically hurt before and the other hadn’t come to console them right away when it happened. Even though you’d laughed quite hard when Jeno had gotten stung by that bee way back when, you had also curled up in his bunk bed with him for the remainder of the day, rubbing his back and telling him Gwen Stacy from Art class wouldn’t think he was that ugly. It felt unnatural being away from him when you knew he was seriously hurt, and every fiber of your being longed to be near him, to see him for yourself instead of taking reassurances from Aunt May. You trusted Aunt May of course, but there was just something comforting about knowing for yourself in a situation like this.

Your gaze stays vacant, and to anyone else it might’ve looked like you were hard at work copying notes for World History, but you hadn’t moved your pencil for at least 15 minutes. At this point, a rock could’ve been thrown through your window and you still would have been completely absorbed in thoughts of Jeno.

It’s only when a faint vibration to your right has you breaking your gaze from your notebook and turning it toward your cell phone, lit up with one notification. From Jeno.

With lightning speed, you pick up your phone and unlock it, looking down at the screen to find a text message from said boy, a simple reply that had nothing to do with anything you’d sent him earlier.

**(1) Unread Message(s)**

_ received: 9:12 p.m., november 1st, 2017 _

**dweeb❣️: special delivery for someone clearly not doing their homework!**

“What?” You whisper in disbelief, your excitement having melted into pure perplexity. What in the world could he have been talking about?

You hear a knock on your window, and you whip around to find out.

Dangling from a web you’re all too familiar with is a paper cup and a scone outside of your window, and you’re absolutely sure there is a gloved hand extending from upwards that is waving left and right at you, but you don’t see any face nearby.

Quickly, you rush to your bedroom door and shut it, bounding back toward your window where you use all your might to raise the rickety thing. You get it up all the way before grabbing a nearby pair of scissors to snip the hot drink and scone into your waiting hand, and when they’re both securely in your grasp, you bend out of the window and look up.

It’s dark now, and your street wasn’t as well lit this far up your apartment building, so all you can see is dark hair and part of a face turned toward the brick wall, your hero dangling upside down but not far enough for you to see him. All you know is he is unmasked, and it makes your heart thump wildly. “S-Spiderman? How’d you know where I li-” “A really good friend of yours told me.”

You blink, so shocked by his sudden appearance that you don’t register his voice at first. You set your drink and scone down and stare up at his head from an awkward angle, attempting to catch a glimpse of his face, but you find it extremely hard to with the way he’s positioned. Damn him.

“Did Jeno ask you to do this?”

He stays silent. What was he playing at here?

“I’d really like it if you’d talk to me, you know. I think saving me from that group of thugs the other day and having a mini heart-to-heart on that rooftop grants me that privilege.” You hiss, reaching your hand up to touch him, but he seems to have expected as much even without looking at you, and he curls up with strength only a trained hero like him would have until he’s holding onto the web with just his crossed thighs, and you sigh when you notice him pulling something onto his head. When he flips back down, you’re met with that same face you see on the internet, and it infuriates you.

“I didn’t know we were friends,” he even has the gall to turn his voice changer back on, “only friends get the privilege to hear me speak.”

“Then let me be your friend.” You growl, reaching a hand out aggrievedly to grab at his mask, but he swings back just in time and you miss. This pesky spider was really pissing you off tonight.

“I’m very picky, unfortunately.” He replies lazily, tilting his head to the side when he sees your face contort funnily. He realizes what kind of face you’re making when he flips your expression upside down in his mind.

You reach out again, this time making contact with the front of his suit and you pull him in so close until his head is at equal height to yours, your eyes meeting where his would. You don’t hear any reaction and that just fuels the fire, “Look you  _ ass _ , I’ve had a pretty rough couple of weeks, okay? Winter break is almost here and that means a truckload of exams that nobody asked for and cramming out of the wazoo because there’s too much to do in so little time in the day. On top of that, I’m being pursued by your vague ass and now I get news one of the most important people in my life was seriously hurt last night thanks to these damn enhanced jerks running around causing a fuss. I can’t see him, I can’t get a hold of him, and I’m this close to snapping and throwing myself onto this fire escape and running the six blocks it would take to get to his house, damning what my parents and Aunt May have to say. The least I could get tonight is a clear fucking answer. So tell me, did Jeno send you or what?”

If it could, his mask would contort in shame.

Several seconds pass until you regain your composure, and you release him finally, watching as he swings back from the momentum. He reaches a hand out to grasp your window sill to steady himself, and you ready yourself to apologize for your outburst when he beats you to it, “Sorry. I really am an ass, huh?”

You chuckle breathlessly, “Yeah, kinda.”

“I’m really bad with words,” he starts, but then he sighs deeply, “Karen, turn off the Interrogation protocol, I don’t need it.”

You’re fixing to question who Karen is when a feminine voice answers him with an affirmative and you startle quietly, much to Spiderman’s amusement, “Don’t be freaked out. She’s just the AI in my suit.” “Tony Stark really goes all out, huh?”

Instead of answering you though, he takes a deep breath and hooks his fingers under the fabric of his mask and leaves them there, your own breath hitching in response. 

“Like I said… really bad with words, right? Honestly, when I first started this whole thing, I wanted to tell you so badly. I’d just made my first suit and everything was so exciting, and yeah, in hindsight that suit was actually terrible but it was mine and I was saving people in it. And then remember that time I was gone for a few days and I told you I ‘went to go visit a distant uncle in Iowa’? I actually was in Germany stealing Captain America’s shield. And then after that, I came home and Mr. Stark gave me this new suit and everything was so new and different! But I was still the same old kid from Queens who didn’t really know how to talk to the girl he liked or the adequate amount of time in which one should start a project before it’s hella due-” “Wait-” “No, no,” he stops you removing his hand from his mask to hold it up at you, “let me finish.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, so you stay silent, but you have a feeling you’re miles ahead of him already.

“Like I was saying, juggling two lives is hard. Like, really,  _ really _ hard. I thought it was tough just keeping it a secret from Aunt May, but… but you… you’re my best friend, and not being able to tell you felt like absolute hell. You’re the one person I tell everything to. I trust you with my life, but I couldn’t tell you this because imagine if someone found out we knew each other and someone tried to hurt you? I can’t promise you’d I’d be very heroic if that happened. But what I can promise is that I’ve thought long and hard about this and maybe my timing is kind of odd and maybe the way I went about it sucked, but… but I’m so sorry for lying to you this whole time,” he finishes, or so you think, yanking his mask down to reveal the boy you’d been so worried about all day, beautiful face bruised in some places, and the very sight makes your stomach lurch, “…and I like you.”

You really hadn’t been miles ahead of him after all.

His confession ended with such a surprise that you squeaked on instinct, your knees wobbling under the abrupt reminder that you had a body to keep upright even when you were struck with the information that your best friend was a superhero and he had feelings for you. Simply one piece of this information would have surely made you just as lightheaded. 

“Talk to me, please… only my friends get this privilege.” He tries to joke, his laugh coming out shaky and nervous despite himself.

You hold your hand over your mouth and look at him, really look at him, until you think you’ve found some words to bring order to the situation, “…there’s no distant uncle in Iowa?”

This time his laugh is genuine, and he nods, some wetness falling from his eyes and down to the concrete below. “Doesn’t exist. You really think May would send me off for that long without her?”

“But… Jeno… Jeno, this is so dangerous. Jeno, you’re in high school. You haven’t even gotten your diploma yet and they’re letting you out there to die?” “This is what I want to do. The Avengers... they don’t dictate that, never did. I’ve always been in charge of my fate and that applies even now. I know it’s dumb and you probably want to kick my ass for choosing this, of all things, to be my hobby, but I swear to you that there is nothing I’m more sure of than wanting to protect this city and everyone in it. Especially you.”

You open your mouth to say something else when you suddenly hear a knock on your door, and your eyes widen exponentially. Damn it, you and Jeno hadn’t even  _ tried _ to be quiet.

“Honey? Did Jeno finally call?” You dad calls through the door, and you quickly turn back around to the aforementioned boy, his eyes comically wide. 

“Just a minute dad!” You yell back over your shoulder and hide your drink and scone from obvious sight, “Jeno, you’ve got to go before my dad comes in.” 

Jeno looks absolutely conflicted, holding his mask to his chest as he looks over your shoulder toward your door, “Wait, we have more to talk about-”

Jeno doesn’t get a chance to say more before you grab him by the front of his suit once more and yank him close, your lips meeting his in a mix of cold and warmth as you stand on your tip-toes, the taste of his chapstick and a hint of hot chocolate on his breath lingering with yours so pleasurably you don’t want to pull away. 

However, you can hear the floorboards outside of your room creak and you know your father is about to open your door, so you quickly release Jeno and shut the curtains, just as the door creaks open.

Your dad stands there with an inquisitive look on his face, but he smiles when he sees you by the window, though his eyebrow raises in confusion, “Why are you by the window, sweetie? You’re not feeling hot, are you?”

You shake your head no and opt to keep your expression indifferent as much as possible, knowing your cheeks  _ do _ feel hot and your skin is practically on fire when you realize that you really just kissed Jeno, aka Spiderman, aka your best friend since you could even say those words. “Not at all. I’m peachy.”

He looks at you for a little while longer, a question on his features before he decides against it and nods, “Ok, goodnight. Don’t stay up too late talking to the city.”

You fake a laugh that lasts uncharacteristically long until he’s stepped out of the room and shut the door, and then you let out a deep sigh of relief.

You feel cool air brush your neck when the curtains are opened again, Jeno chuckling from behind you. When you’re sure that you’re in the clear, you turn back around with a stern glare, “I tasted hot cocoa on your breath. You better stop sampling the goods before you deliver ‘em.”

All the boy does is grin, the sight of it upside down making him look just a little wicked, “We’ll have a deal if you kiss me again.”

If one ever asked why you continued to kiss him all night that night, your response would have of course been that you had sweet treats to defend from your best friend’s (and now boyfriend’s) greedy hands. Even if it  _ was _ his little gift.


End file.
